


We're Brothers

by Aini_NuFire



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Awesome Bobby, Caring Bobby, Dean is a dick, Gen, Guilty Winchesters, Hurt Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Protective Castiel, Season/Series 06, Whump, angels as family, hurt balthazar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 22:09:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8941351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aini_NuFire/pseuds/Aini_NuFire
Summary: When Raphael captures Balthazar, it’s up to Castiel to rescue him. Even if he knows it’s probably a trap.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've been missing Balthazar and wanted to write some brotherly feels with him and Cas, so here's a one shot. Unfortunately, because it's season 6, Dean is kind of a dick, briefly. Sorry. But there's awesome!Bobby!
> 
> Disclaimer: Supernatural isn't mine. Takes place sometime after "The French Mistake." Shoutout to 29Pieces for beta reading. ^_^

 

 

Balthazar knew his recent philanthropy would come back to bite him in the ass. Not only had he managed to piss off the last archangel on the planet, but he'd also given up all of his means of defense to Castiel's noble cause. All because he'd done something even more stupid and _joined_ said cause.

And now he was paying for it. Balthazar grunted as another fist rammed into his stomach, making him double over with a guttural gasp and cough. The arms that were holding his arms tightly behind his back wrenched him upright again.

Balthazar cracked a bloody grin at his tormentor. "You've become a lightweight, Zephaniah."

The angel's nostrils flared, and he pulled his arm back to strike again, but a black female stepped in and gripped Zephaniah's wrist, staying his hand.

"Your insolence was never amusing," Raphael said, voice dripping with disdain.

"Gabriel always appreciated it," Balthazar muttered, and spat a glob of blood on the ground at the archangel's feet. Note to self: the next time Cas needed someone to spy on an enemy encampment, Balthazar was _not_ going to volunteer. He was usually better at stealth, too. But Raphael's goons had apparently set up some intricate warding around the perimeter that had alerted them to his presence.

Raphael stared down at him, emotive as ever. Seriously, the only expression the archangel seemed capable of was perpetual derision and scorn. "And like Gabriel, you are a traitor, and a thief."

Balthazar rolled his eyes. No one was ever going to let that one go. Like anyone was _using_ the heavenly weapons at the time. "Look, honey, I don't have the bloody weapons anymore."

"I know," Raphael said tonelessly. "Castiel does." And there was finally a flicker of ire. It was nice to know the little seraph was such a thorn in Raphael's side. Gave Balthazar a little bit of perverse amusement.

The archangel turned to one of his foot-soldiers. "Send word. Castiel brings me the weapons, or his despicable friend dies."

Balthazar couldn't keep the surprise off his face. An exchange? Really? As if Cas would bow to such demands. Balthazar admired the other angel's pluck, he really did, but Cas could be singleminded sometimes, especially with this whole free will, anti-Apocalypse crusade.

Raphael nodded to Zephaniah. "Find a place on earth for the meeting. I want Castiel to come alone."

Zephaniah gave a clipped bow and flew off. Raphael finally turned his attention back to Balthazar.

"It seems we have some time on our hands while we wait." Raphael slowly withdrew an angel blade from inside his suit jacket.

Balthazar had a fleeting moment in which he rued this entire day, but then he leveled his most scornful glower at the archangel. "Bite me."

* * *

Castiel was in the middle of a strategy session when the message came through over angel radio. It was directed to him only, evidenced by the lack of reaction from his fellow angels when he froze at the news that Raphael had captured Balthazar and wanted to trade him for the heavenly weapons.

"Castiel?" Rachel prompted after he'd been silent too long.

Castiel stiffened and looked around the room. Raphael had said to come alone, or Balthazar would die.

"This is good," he managed to say. "Rachel, you can take it from here."

Her features hardened. "Is it the Winchesters again, Castiel? You can't keep rushing off at their beck and call. It sends a bad message to your followers."

"We all oppose Raphael because we believe in protecting humanity," he responded. "If I forget my charges while fighting to save them, what have I accomplished? Besides, you can handle this, Rachel. I have confidence in you."

Castiel's lieutenant did not look appeased, but he didn't have time to assuage her, or correct her misassumption. He flapped his wings and flew to earth, which was where Raphael wanted to conduct this exchange. It made sense; earth was isolated, as most angels were fighting in Heaven. It also meant that this was most likely a trap. Raphael would never honor an exchange, and Castiel couldn't risk the weapons falling into the archangel's hands. He needed to find a way to rescue Balthazar and get out with their lives. An impossible mission.

But Castiel knew who was skilled in pulling off those kinds of things.

He closed his eyes and projected his consciousness outward. He hoped Dean was sleeping this late at night. Sure enough, when Castiel brushed against the edges of the human's mind, the barriers were pliable, signaling a subconscious dream state. Castiel easily entered, and frowned at the dimly lit room with plush velvet couches and a vertical pole standing in the middle of the room. That served no architectural function that he could see.

Two scantily clad women sashayed in from the sides, swinging their hips back and forth as they converged on Dean, who was reclining on one of the sofas, mouth hanging open in a dopey grin. Castiel fidgeted. This was awkward.

"Dean," he said.

The hunter blinked, and peered past the women toward Castiel. His brows knit together in confusion, and then rose with realization. The two women vanished instantly.

"Dammit, Cas, you can't just march into someone's dream without knocking."

Castiel glanced over his shoulder at the invisible yet porous edges of Dean's mind. It was impossible to actually _knock_ …

Castiel shook off his perplexity and turned back to the hunter. "Dean, I need your help. Balthazar is in trouble—"

"No way."

Castiel blinked, momentarily taken aback. "Dean—"

The Winchester surged to his feet. "We don't want anything to do with that douchebag. Frankly, whatever it is, he probably had it coming."

"But Raphael—"

Dean shot a hand up, eyes darkening. "Oh, then _hell_ no. The last time you and Balthazar pulled us into your war, we got sent to a whacked out universe! Me and Sam just finished a hunt and we're exhausted. I'm sure Balthazar can take care of himself."

Castiel found himself at a loss for words. How could Dean not see the gravity of the situation? Or at least hear him out? But then, Castiel should not have expected as such; the Winchesters' problems always did come first.

"Alright." Castiel took a step back to extricate himself from the dream.

"And next time use a phone!" Dean lobbed after him.

Castiel opened his eyes to a star studded sky in northern Montana where he'd previously landed. Now what? He couldn't abandon Balthazar, but he couldn't hand over the heavenly weapons, either. If he tried to storm the location with a garrison of angels, there would be heavy casualties—including his friend. Castiel had been hoping the Winchesters would have helped him come up with a plan, or at the very least provided backup that Raphael wouldn't have seen coming. He would have to think of something else.

He was at a sore disadvantage against the archangel without an extra source of power, such as souls or the heavenly weapons. But he only needed enough of a boost to rescue Balthazar, not win in a direct fight. Castiel had hidden the heavenly weapons on earth, so it was a quick flight to the ancient crypt where he grabbed a piece of the Rod of Aaron. He hadn't fixed the item when he'd first retrieved it from Balthazar. Its broken power was unreliable, but hopefully would be enough for what he needed.

And if he failed, Raphael still wouldn't get his hands on the complete weapon.

Castiel flew to the location the message had specified, a train yard in Virginia. It was night there, too, and he landed on the outskirts. If this was a trap, better not to fly straight in.

Castiel walked through the lines and rows of rail cars, the gravel crunching slightly under his footsteps. He slowed when he caught a glimpse of a sentry nearby.

Castiel clenched his jaw. He despised killing his brethren, even in battle, but there were times when it was regrettably necessary. Like now.

His angel blade slipped silently into his hand, and Castiel swept around behind a rail car. The other angel turned his head from side to side, senses peeled. Castiel eyed a pebble on the ground, and with a flick of his wrist, sent it soaring up to clatter over the roof of the train car. The guard jerked his head up, and Castiel surged out from behind the car to stab him through the throat. Any sound the sentry may have made gurgled instead as light blazed forth. Castiel grabbed him by the shoulder and flung him into the train car, concealing most of the dying nova. He then darted away to take cover behind a steam engine, wary of more of Raphael's lackeys.

He spotted another further into the yard, and this time Castiel flew in right behind him, killing him just as quickly. His chest constricted as he let the empty vessel fall to the ground.

The area was still quiet, and it seemed Castiel's presence had not been detected yet. He moved cautiously, though, wondering if Balthazar was even here, or if Raphael had set this exchange up without ever intending to honor it.

But then Castiel finally spotted the archangel in his current female vessel. He was standing outside a rail car whose side door was all the way open…and inside was Balthazar, trussed up with chains, arms up and out to the sides, and hanging limply in them. Castiel's heart skipped a beat.

Raphael roved his gaze around slowly, and then vanished. Perhaps he'd gone to check on his sentries who were no longer reporting in. This was likely the only chance Castiel would get.

With a flap of his wings, he flew across the tracks and landed just outside the car. Balthazar's head was down, chin to his chest, but Castiel could see the bloody tears in the angel's shirt. He jumped up into the rail car and immediately took his angel blade to one of the chains, trying to break the link bolted to a hook in the ceiling.

Balthazar let out a low moan, and his head tipped back. His face was just as beaten as the rest of him.

"Shh," Castiel urged. "I'll have you free in a minute." He struck his blade against the link in the chain, the celestial alloy sparking against the reinforced metal, which cracked under the force.

"Cas?" Balthazar slurred in disbelief.

Castiel thwacked the chain again, finally breaking it. Balthazar's left arm dropped heavily to his side.

"Oh," Balthazar groaned. "You _moron_."

Castiel frowned as he turned to the other chain. "I'm sorry, I don't have a key."

Balthazar snorted, though it sounded garbled from blood in his throat. "It's a trap."

"I figured as much," he replied, striking the chain. "That's why we have to hurry."

The door behind him suddenly made a grating screech as it slammed closed, and Castiel whirled just in time to see that sigils had been drawn on the inside of the car—and as soon as they connected between the wall and the shutting door, they exploded with a concussive force that consumed him in blinding white fire.

* * *

Castiel woke to a horrendous pounding in his head and discomfort in his shoulders. He dragged his head up, the slight rattle of chains his second clue that things had not gone well at all. Castiel blinked the last fuzziness from his vision and found himself now hanging from the chains bolted to the rail car's ceiling. He cast his gaze around worriedly, and spotted Balthazar laying in the corner, wrists manacled in front of him. The other angel gave Castiel a regretful grimace.

Raphael stepped into view from the side, making Castiel jolt slightly. There was another angel here now, too. Castiel recognized him as Zephaniah.

Raphael curled his lip at him. "You are a slave to sentimentality, Castiel. It is why you won't win this war."

Castiel gave a light tug against his bonds, even though it was futile. "This war isn't about me, Raphael. There are plenty of other angels who believe in our cause, and will take up the mantle when I'm gone."

"The other angels are fools," Raphael retorted. "And they will realize it soon enough. Now, where are the heavenly weapons?"

"I'm not telling you."

Raphael nodded to Zephaniah, who drew an angel blade and stepped in to slash it across Castiel's chest. Castiel threw his head back and gritted his teeth against a cry of pain as a flare of grace briefly illuminated the darkened corners of the rail car.

"Where are the heavenly weapons?" Raphael repeated.

Castiel leveled a defiant glare at the archangel. "Go to Hell," he ground out.

Raphael's eyes flashed with fury, and Zephaniah scored another gash along Castiel's ribs. When Castiel still refused to give up the weapons, Zephaniah cut him several more times until Castiel was hanging heavily in the chains, chest heaving with labored breaths.

Raphael glowered at him. "You do not value your own life, Castiel? Well, you came here." He nodded to his thug, who strode over to Balthazar and grabbed the back of his collar, hefting him up and placing the angel blade at his throat.

Castiel struggled to fully support his weight again, heart rate ratcheting up.

Balthazar met his gaze with a sharp one of his own. "Don't be an idiot."

Zephaniah slammed the pommel of his blade against Balthazar's head, then quickly replaced it at his neck as the wounded angel lolled dazedly.

"Stop!" Castiel shouted.

Raphael took a menacing step toward him. "Then give me the weapons, Castiel."

He glanced at Balthazar again, then at the archangel. There was no getting out of this in one piece. But maybe, just maybe, Castiel could still fight back.

He sagged in the chains. "In- in my pocket. I brought one," he said resignedly.

Raphael eyed him skeptically, but then moved forward. Castiel waited until the archangel had wrapped his fingers around the broken rod and started to pull it out, and then he shouted a word in Enochian. The heavenly weapon went off like a flash bomb, and Raphael dropped it with a cry as he threw his arms up to shield his face.

Castiel swung his legs up and around the archangel's neck, locking his knees together. Then he wrenched all his weight to the side, and flung Raphael into the wall. Zephaniah charged at him, but before he could reach Castiel, Balthazar had jumped to his feet and tackled the other angel. They rolled, and somehow Balthazar managed to gain the angel blade, which he stabbed straight into Zephaniah's heart.

Balthazar fumbled with Zephaniah's suit jacket and produced a key. Then he staggered to his feet and over to Castiel. He only got one manacle unlocked before a beam of bright light crashed into him, propelling him into the back wall with a resounding thud.

Castiel swung around, one arm still chained up, as Raphael lurched forward, eyes glowing from that exertion of power. Castiel spun and punched the archangel across the jaw. Raphael's head snapped sideways, and then slowly rolled back, unfazed. He lunged, and Castiel twisted, slinging the loose chain around Raphael's neck and jerking hard. Castiel snatched the archangel's blade from his pocket and brought it down with a cracking force on the link above his wrist. It broke with one strike.

Castiel slipped out of the chain and danced away as Raphael also freed himself. The archangel stumbled, and wrenched the angel blade from Zephaniah's chest. Raphael flew at Castiel, who brought his blade up at the last second to block. Raphael was stronger than him, though, and the blade pierced Castiel's chest. Only the hilt of his own blade sliding against Raphael's saved his heart from being impaled.

Castiel gritted his teeth against a surge of fiery pain, and with a burst of strength, pushed Raphael off. He almost collapsed after the blade slid out from his chest, but Castiel forced himself to stay upright. Raphael lunged again, and Castiel managed to duck under the swing and stab Raphael in the back of his leg. The archangel howled and caught himself against the wall. Stumbling to regain his balance, Castiel braced himself for another attack. But Raphael merely threw a seething glare over his shoulder, and then flew away.

Castiel waited for a surprise return, yet none came. He staggered, and reached a hand up toward the stab wound in his chest. It burned, and his vision was going dark around the edges. But he couldn't succumb, not yet.

Castiel snatched up the fallen keys and stumbled toward Balthazar, who was slumped against the wall, eyes closed. Blood was trickling out of the corner of his mouth. A blow from an archangel like that could easily be fatal.

Castiel felt himself fading quickly as well, and knew he didn't have the strength to make it back to Heaven. There was one place, though, the only truly safe place he could think of to go.

He unlocked the cuffs from Balthazar's wrists. Gathering the other angel in his arms, Castiel sucked in a pained breath and took wing, hoping this time he wouldn't be turned away.

* * *

Bobby had just shut off his computer and was planning to head to bed when a whoosh of wind slapped against his back, and he whirled around just as two bodies fell out of thin air and crashed into the middle of his den. For a moment, Bobby could only stare in stupefaction at the figures. One, he recognized—that damn trench coat was distinguishable anywhere. Cas lifted his head with obvious effort, and Bobby saw the bloody slashes in his shirt. The other person looked no better.

"What the hell…" Bobby started.

"Please," Cas gasped. "I didn't know where else to go."

Bobby eyed Cas's companion warily. "What happened?"

"Raphael." Cas winced as he sat upright. He took the other guy by the shoulders to roll him onto his back. He'd been cut up too, and used as a punching bag. "He captured Balthazar. Wanted the heavenly weapons."

So that was Balthazar. Based on what Bobby had heard from Sam and Dean, the angel was a dick, just like all the others. A smarmy dick.

"That don't explain what happened to you," Bobby pointed out gruffly. This was the last thing he needed so late at night.

"I- had to- save him," Cas practically wheezed, and started crawling toward the desk. He lifted a shaky hand to his chest, and his fingers came away glistening red. Then he started to paint a symbol on the side panel. Bobby was about to protest the mutilation of his furniture, but something held him back. If a pissed-off archangel was about to rain down upon their heads, maybe Cas had a play up his sleeve.

Once done, Cas slumped against the desk. He was growing paler by the second.

"What's with the finger paint?"

"Sanctuary," Cas breathed, and then looked up as though it was a question. Not like Bobby could turn him away in this condition.

"Yeah, alright," he said, for lack of a better response.

Cas sagged further in apparent relief, then turned a worried gaze to the other angel. "Please, help…him…" he said faintly, and then his eyes rolled back.

Bobby barely made it the few feet to catch him before he toppled sideways. He gently laid Cas down on the floor, and noticed that one of the wounds on his chest was actually glowing. Bobby peeled back the tear in the shirt, and sucked in a sharp breath. Balls, it was a stab wound. Looked serious, too, at least for a mortal. Though, angels leaking blue light was probably not a good thing.

He glanced over his shoulder at the other unconscious angel. What the hell was he supposed to do? Well, if it were anyone else, he'd patch them up.

He didn't think he should be stitching anything, though. Besides, weren't angels supposed to heal themselves? Another glance at Cas's sluggishly bleeding wounds proved that wrong, on this count at least. It was gonna be a long night.

Bobby got up and went to check on Balthazar. The lacerations on his chest were more superficial, and his face was mottled with various shades of bruises. A trail of dried blood caked down over his upper lip from his nose. Again, not really good signs coming from an angel.

Grumbling to himself, Bobby slipped his hands under Balthazar's arms and heaved him up enough to drag him over to the couch where he deposited the wounded angel. Perhaps less gently than he should have. Even though Cas had asked Bobby to help Balthazar, Cas actually looked to be in worse shape, so Bobby returned to him and hauled him up and over to the window bed Bobby had used while he'd been in the wheelchair.

Since he didn't want to take a needle and thread to either one of these two, he settled for packing on the gauze as tightly as he could over the stab wound and taping it in place. Hopefully the bleeding would stop on its own. In any case, he was glad the bandages hid that faintly glowing light, because that was frankly too freaky. The other slashes on Cas's chest didn't look good, but Bobby switched back to Balthazar, deciding to clean and dress his injuries first.

He'd almost finished before the angel just had to start waking up. Balthazar's face scrunched up, and Bobby hurriedly snatched his hands away from cleaning one of the lacerations on the angel's abdomen; he didn't want to get hit if Balthazar thought he was waking up in enemy territory.

The angel pried his eyes open with obvious effort, blinking dazedly. Then he bolted upright in alarm and swept his gaze around. Bobby tried not to make any sudden movements.

"What…" Balthazar started, then narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"

"A friend of Cas's."

The angel regarded him mistrustfully for a moment. "You must be Bobby Singer." Balthazar glanced down at his open shirt and the stark white bandages, then arched a brow at the man. "Well, I'd say you should buy a bloke a drink first, but it smells like you've used the good stock as an antiseptic."

Bobby crossed his arms. "You weren't healing. I wasn't exactly gonna leave you lying on the floor staining my rug."

Balthazar tried to sit up further, and grimaced, one hand ghosting over his injuries. "I hadn't pegged you for a Mother Theresa." He looked around again. "Where is Cas?"

Bobby nodded toward the window. "I haven't finished patching him up yet. He seemed pretty worried about you before he passed out."

Balthazar swung his legs over the side of the sofa, then nearly pitched face first onto the floor. Bobby backpedaled a few steps, still on guard.

Face pinching in obvious strain, Balthazar heaved himself to his feet and staggered over to the other angel, dropping down beside him. "What happened?" he demanded.

Bobby came up behind him cautiously. "He said he tried to rescue you from Raphael."

The angel let out a scathing snort. "The idiot walked right into that trap. I don't know what he was bloody thinking."

Bobby had to agree that sounded pretty stupid, but he wasn't going to say so. "I don't know what went down, but when he dropped in here with you, he had a stab wound in his chest. Looked pretty bad." Maybe now that Balthazar was conscious, he'd say the healing was just delayed and would kick in any minute now, and then the two cloud-hoppers could leave Bobby's house in peace.

But Balthazar's eyes lost some of their heat, only to be replaced with fear and concern. He gently lifted a corner of the bandage Bobby had taped down, glancing underneath at the wound. His pallor turned a shade whiter.

"Dammit, Cas, why'd you have to do that?" he muttered.

Bobby shifted awkwardly. "Should I clean the rest of the wounds?"

Balthazar looked up as though startled, and then glanced at Cas again. His mouth pressed into a tight line. "I can do it."

Bobby half turned to pick up the bowl of water and cloths set near the sofa. "I don't mind. And I've probably had more practice than you."

The angel flicked an irritated glare up at him. Bobby held his ground, and after a moment, something in Balthazar's eyes shifted. The angel slowly reached a hand out. "It will go faster with two."

That was probably the best he was going to get. Bobby handed Balthazar a clean cloth, and the two of them proceeded to clean and bandage the myriad of lacerations scored down Cas's chest.

"Cas said something about Raphael wanting the heavenly weapons," Bobby brought up.

Balthazar snorted. "Wanted Castiel to trade them for my life. He had to know it was a trap, and came anyway. Got tortured for his trouble."

Yeah, that's what the wounds looked like.

"So, did Raphael get…?"

"Of course not," Balthazar snapped. "Cas would sacrifice himself, but he'd never hand over weapons that Raphael could use to win the war."

Bobby fell silent. On some level, he knew that.

Balthazar finished taping down another piece of gauze, and his shoulders slumped. "Don't know why he bothered with me," he said so low that Bobby almost didn't hear. "After what I've put him through." Balthazar shook his head, and Bobby was struck then by how wrecked the angel looked, gazing down at Cas. It reminded Bobby of Sam after Dean sold his soul to save him.

Maybe there was something to angels being brothers after all.

Balthazar suddenly grunted and curled in on himself. Bobby instinctively shot a hand out to brace his shoulder.

"You should probably lay down," he suggested.

Balthazar looked like he wanted to argue, but he was clearly in a great deal of pain. Finally, he gave a reluctant nod and forced himself to his feet. Bobby gave the halo space as he shuffled back to the sofa and collapsed onto it. Balthazar was out in less than ten seconds—either unconscious or maybe meditating, since angels supposedly didn't sleep. Bobby glanced back at Cas, still deeply unconscious. Yeah, right. Two immortals and one human in the house, and Bobby was the one who wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight.

* * *

Bobby kept watch through till morning. Neither angel woke again, not even when Bobby checked their wounds. The shallow lacerations seemed to be healing, finally, and Cas's stab wound had stopped glowing. It, however, was mending more slowly, so Bobby went ahead and changed the dressing on it. Couldn't hurt, right?

It was going on 9am when the rumble of a familiar engine crawled up the drive. Bobby glanced at his phone; those boys hadn't mentioned they were coming by. Oh, probably because his battery had died some time last night.

The front door creaked open, and two sets of boots clomped across the floor.

"Hey, Bobby!" Dean called from the hallway. "What's up with you not answering your phone? We need to know about a clurichaun." He and Sam entered the den, only to pull up short and gape.

Bobby tossed a scowl at them. "I've been a little busy here."

Sam's mouth sputtered on silent syllables. "What happened?" he finally gasped.

"Raphael took a bite out of 'em," Bobby replied. "Captured and tortured Balthazar before Cas showed up to try to rescue him. Apparently it didn't go so well."

Dean's brows rose sharply. "What the…why the hell didn't Cas ask for help?"

"I tried," a gravelly voice issued from the bed near the window. Cas struggled to push himself up onto his elbows, wincing as he did so. "You told me you didn't want anything to do with the problems of Heaven."

Bobby turned a stern glare on the boys. Was that so? Sam was fidgeting almost guiltily, while a muscle in Dean's jaw ticked angrily.

"So you go on a suicide mission? Yeah, that's smart."

Cas shot the older Winchester a dark glower that nearly crackled the air. "I wasn't going to leave my brother to die. You never would." He pushed himself the rest of the way up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "Thank you for your help, Bobby. I'll…get out of your hair…now," he added hesitantly, as though unsure of the idiom. He staggered toward the couch, shooting a hand out to catch himself on various pieces of furniture as he went.

"Balthazar," Cas said, shaking the other angel's shoulder gently.

"Five more minutes," British Feathers mumbled.

"It's time to leave," Cas pressed. "I'll find us another place to rest."

Oh, for Pete's sake. Bobby crossed his arms. "Neither of you looks in any shape to be going anywhere."

"I appreciate the concern, especially since you don't owe us anything," Cas said. He paused briefly to squeeze his eyes shut, looking as though he could barely keep his feet. "But I don't want to impose further."

"It's not a problem," Bobby argued, and shot the Winchesters a pointed look. "They were the ones who were just leaving."

Dean's expression slackened with dismay, and even Sam looked a little stung by that. Well, that was too damn bad. Those two self-absorbed SOBs could take a backseat for once.

Cas glanced between the three of them with a look of utter confusion, which was quickly being replaced with obvious dizziness, as he began to sway.

Balthazar eased himself up and put a hand on Cas's arm. "Cas, be realistic. Either of us tries to fly right now, and we're going to crash into the side of a mountain."

Cas shifted his weight uncertainly, but it only upset his balance, and Bobby moved in to brace his other side, just as Balthazar tightened his grip.

"Listen to your brother," Bobby chided. Ah, hell, when had he become a surrogate parent to _angels_? As if he needed any more strays.

Cas huffed out a small breath of frustration, but nevertheless said, "Alright."

Balthazar rose from the couch, and then he and Bobby helped guide Cas back to the bed by the window so he could lie down. Cas's face screwed up as the movement tugged the stab wound. Bobby frowned at the fresh spot of red starting to stain the gauze pad. If that kept up, he might have to reevaluate his anti-stitching position.

When he turned around, he found the Winchester brothers still standing in the den, looking both uncomfortable and properly chastised.

Sam gave him a contrite look. "What can we do to help?"

Bobby eyed the two of them shrewdly. Maybe they were capable of getting their heads out of their asses. "My supply of bandages is running low. Maybe you boys could go get some more. If it's not too much trouble," he couldn't help but add a little snippily. He was a little miffed himself that they'd barged in here this morning with the first words out of their mouths being "We need your help," "We have a problem," "Chop, chop, Bobby."

"Yeah, absolutely," Sam said hurriedly. Even Dean nodded along, quick to agree. They cast one last worried look at Cas, and then reluctantly left.

"You didn't have to do that, Bobby," Cas said quietly.

"Oh, I don't know," Balthazar interjected. "Those two hairless apes think the sun revolves around them."

Bobby harrumphed at the insulting descriptor, but didn't disagree. He turned his gaze to Cas. "Those boys are always calling me for help. Hell, they're not even the only ones. So, you might as well too."

Cas's brow furrowed as though he didn't understand.

Bobby held back a sigh. "Next time you need help, Cas, you can call me."

The angel blinked at him in surprise. "Th- thank you."

Bobby gave him a gruff nod, then turned a stern look on the other angel. "Just don't go getting captured again."

Balthazar snorted. "Not planning to." His expression softened, and he looked at Cas. "You could have gotten yourself killed back there. Almost did."

Cas's mouth curved upward a bare fraction, but to Bobby, it was the biggest damn smile he'd ever seen from the stoic angel. Cas lifted his arm to clasp Balthazar's. "I would never leave you behind."

Balthazar gripped Cas's arm firmly in return, and there was fondness in his eyes instead of the customary steeliness.

Bobby quietly slipped away. He had a lot of preconceived notions about angels based on what he'd heard and seen. But that right there…was yet another pair of brothers who would do anything for each other.


End file.
